The Broken Swan Queen
by Thaleron
Summary: She remembered that night, that night so perfect, but so disastrous. She had destroyed everything. Ruined her. All for that one, tiny moment of perfection.


**AN: **Just a little something I've been working on in my spare time. Now, you might want to pay attention to this before you start reading, cause I realize that it might be a little confusing at first.

The **BOLDED **words pertain to Nina's **darker** half or Nina** AND** her darker half. And the _ITALICS_ are in regards to_ Lily_ or _Nina's individual thoughts_.

With that said, enjoy this little one-shot.

* * *

From childhood's hour I have not been  
As others were; I have not seen  
As others saw; I could not bring  
My passions from a common spring.  
From the same source I have not taken  
My sorrow; I could not awaken  
My heart to joy at the same tone;  
And all I loved, I loved alone.

* * *

It was a constant reminder.

She touched it with trembling fingers, looked at it with watery eyes. It scarred her, cut her to pieces.

(_**She **__touched it, __**She **__smiled at it, __**She**__ laughed at it and stitched her back together. Made her whole again._)

In her dreams _she_ dipped her tongue into it, swirled around it, traced it and memorized it – made her moan. In her dreams she was a piece of art, a work made only for _her_.

But, when she opened her eyes, it all shattered, and reality dug deep – making her groan and rock in pain. She was always filled with disappointment, knowing that she would never wake up beside _her_.

* * *

She often stared at it in the mirror. The white, jagged chunk and the shallow slope around the edges to show that it had been deep. Forever engraved.

_(__**She**__ tried to kill her.)_

She was late. Again. Thomas didn't pester her about getting there on time anymore. Everyone was so afraid of the broken Swan Queen.

She stepped in, pausing in the hallway to step aside and let a line of dancers through. She never got to dance in the plays anymore, but they still let her come. With clipped wings they watched as she watched, never making eye contact, scared of getting their wings clipped too if they started trouble.

_(**She** was the only trouble here.) Couldn't they see that?_

The Swan Queen had always been trouble, some whispered. Some compared her to Beth; said she _was_ Beth. Doing to her stomach what Beth did to her face.

_(NOTHING. YOU'RE NOTHING.)_

But never _her_. _She_ was always so happy, so purposely oblivious to the others wariness. _She_ always greeted her with bright smiles and quick, gentle hugs. They always brought back the dreams.

She had wanted to ask _her_ to stop, but **she** wouldn't let her.

So she tried, real hard, to get on with life. To accept that _she_ would never, ever look at her the way _she_ did in her dreams.

It was hard, and it hurt.

* * *

"Nina!" She flinched at the sound of her own name – hating it. Was that even her name anymore? She was so used to Broken Swan Queen.

She tried to smile, she really did, but it always faltered one way or another. _Her_ smiles were always the same. They lifted her, then slapped her down.

"Sleep in again, huh?" such an innocent question. **She** smiled, tried to make her smile in that lusty way that _(__**She**__ knew) _she didn't know how to do.

_She_ was always acting like her friend, though she could never remember consenting to such a relationship.

"Yeah," she answered, being pulled into an unwanted hug. Those arms circled her, and she vaguely remembered how those fingers – now pressed against her shoulder blades – felt between her thighs. In that pooling, unbearable heat. A single digit, maybe two. Lips crushed against hers, a tongue between her teeth – eating her moans.

She jerked away and rushed to her room.

Her heart fluttered and punched against her ribs. A dancer's ribs. She had taken so much time in perfecting her shape, her curve, length, and flexibility. All for it to be abused by _**her**_.

(_**She **__was perfect._) _Not me._

She stood in front of the mirror, noting her dark circles and sallow skin. A starving Swan Queen.

She remembered that night, that night so perfect, but so disastrous. **She** had destroyed everything. Ruined her. All for that one, tiny moment of perfection.

She was not herself that night. Not who she wanted to be. **She** had taken over, and she had all but taken her own life in an effort to regain control.

* * *

She stayed late that night, practicing extra hard. She was going to show Thomas that she was ready to dance again, that the... **that** part of her was never going to rise to the surface again.

She watched herself in the mirror, stopping when she finally noticed that the reflection wasn't following her every movement like it should be.

**She** smiled. **She** laughed. **She** tore apart the thin material of her clothes and ripped open her chest to show her **her** soul. Black and dripping.

(_WHO ARE YOU, SWAN QUEEN?_)

She turned away, closed her eyes, and didn't notice as the lights went out and the sound of her sobs broke through the dusty atmosphere. A darkness only she could see.

**She** came near, pressed **herself** against the mirror, and ran **her** tongue against the glass as **her** skin shivered with bristling black feathers. **She** tried to eat her tears.

_(Don't cry, my little princess. I'll make it all better. I'll fix us.)_

She covered her ears and screamed, salty tears and snot curling under her lip and touching her tongue. Why wouldn't she leave her alone? All she wanted was to be Nina. Nina Sayers. Nina Sayers. Nina Nina Nina Nina _Nina._

"Nina?"

She shook her head. The hand on her shoulder was soft and light, a coal black wing that promised more pain, and more destruction. She jerked away, flailed and kicked – cried out when those hands took form – became familiar – and caught her wrists and held them to the floor.

"Nina, stop! It's me! Nina!"

God, why couldn't _she_ stop saying her name? Why couldn't _she_ stop touching her? That's all she wanted, was to be touched.

**She** pushed at the glass, and wedged **her** hand between** her **thighs – head rolling back.

(_Why don't you tell her that you love her? That you want to fuck her?_**_ I _**_could make her want you._)

_Shut up._

She stopped her struggles, but the salt kept coming. The hands let her go and lifted her up, suddenly crawling over her shoulders to drag her against the body that she so wanted, but so hated.

"What's wrong with you, Nina? Why won't you tell anyone what's going on inside your head?" a whisper in her ears. She squirmed when she felt **her** fingers stroking and touching. A hiss and a groan of pleasure in the back of her mind.

She didn't say anything, but for once she reacted to the embrace, the comfort. She wrapped her arms around _her_ waist and buried her face into the crook of her neck, inhaling the scent of _her_ naked skin. A shudder quaked against her, and she was shocked.

(_Now is your chance. She wants you, too. Taste her. Make her scream your name._)

She pulled away abruptly. She wouldn't give in. Not again. Not for one moment of something she knew she couldn't, and wouldn't, ever have.

"Nina?" she looked into those big, dark eyes. They simmered with something. She had to turn away from it, afraid of being burned, "I want to help you, please. That's all I want."

_Why help me? I'm plucked and raw and repulsive. _

"Talk to me! For fuck's sake! You can't keep going on like this!" _She_ is yelling at her, _she_ is shaking her. _Her _eyes are blazing, that unhindered ferocity and wild personality _she_ was known for finally rearing its ugly head. _She_ had been patient, waiting, but still the Swan Queen hid her head under that glassy lake. No more.

She couldn't. She couldn't talk back, couldn't bite or scratch or hiss or make a snide comment, not without **her** taking over. So she moved, just wanting to get out of those arms, and get away from that intoxicating smell.

"Lily, I– " She almost expected resistance, but _she_ let her go. Resigned. Defeated.

"I can't." she whispered, feeling cold and alone when _her_ warm hands went away.

_She_ sighed, and **she** writhed in anger. Twisted and coiled and clawed at the pure white stain that marked her, smearing **their** blood on the mirror.

(_YOU'RE WEAK. PATHETIC. NOTHING._)

_She _ran and hand through _her_ hair as _she_ got up from the floor. _She_ always rose above **them**.

"Well, just know that... if you ever need anything, I'm here."

She said nothing, and stared at the blood on her hands that no one but her could see. It pooled around her, so much like the desire she felt for _her. _

_(Thick and wet and such a lovely color.) _

"God dammit, Nina, I'm just trying to be your friend."

_You're only hurting us both. _

She got up from the floor, silent. Closing herself up and keeping her soul to herself. She was almost to the door when _her_ hand was on her shoulder, pulling her back and around, and suddenly _she_ was kissing her.

A bolt of... something shot through her, rendering her immobile for a moment, before she was cupping that beautiful face and pressing back against that mouth with such abandon it hurt.

She could have stayed like that forever, but they had to separate for air, though the minute she caught her breath she was back for more. She opened up to _her_, deepening the kiss as she relinquished her mouth to that sneaky little tongue. Her back was against the wall, when did that get there? And _her_ body was pressing so sensually against hers that her eyes almost rolled back in her head. God, _her _skin was so _hot._ It burned her. She never wanted this feeling to go away, of being controlled by an outside force. But, when _she_ pulled away after a few more heated kisses, she knew that was the end of it.

"Please, Nina. I want to help you. I _can_ help you." _she_ was pleading, untangling _her _fingers from her hair. No, no no no no no. She couldn't drag _her_ into it.

She was going to exercise her own demons.

She moved for the door, a sad, apologetic smile – but not for rejecting her help.

"I'm sorry, but I have to do this myself."

Because for one real, beautiful, dazzling, shinning moment. Everything had been truly perfect.

* * *

From the lightning in the sky  
As it passed me flying by,  
From the thunder and the storm,  
And the cloud that took the form  
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)  
Of a demon in my view.

-Edgar Allen Poe


End file.
